


Competence

by quentinknockout



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9197348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quentinknockout/pseuds/quentinknockout
Summary: After six weeks on the base, Finn has slowly worked out what Poe Dameron is not good at. Mostly dorky fluff, tiny bit of filth. My favourite ship.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfhalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfhalls/gifts).



> i just need more Finn/Poe ok. dashed this off quickly.

After six weeks on the base, Finn has slowly worked out what Poe Dameron is not good at. 

It was a tough one to crack. Poe is good at most things. A brilliant pilot. A good strategist, engineer, mechanic, organiser, assistant. When someone needed help with something they ask Poe. 

Finn isn’t jealous. No. It wasn’t that. Poe’s easy kindness makes that impossible. But he just wants one or two flaws. Something at which Poe isn’t top of the class. 

Admittedly, it takes him a little while to find out.   
The first thing Poe isn’t good at, Finn discovers, is holding his drink. 

It is Brance’s birthday. Someone smuggles a kind of whiskey from the next system over, powerful stuff. But it is barely ten o’clock before Poe is stumbling and Finn had seen his glass filled only twice. His laugher is freer, but he staggers, makes a poor attempt at dancing and soon walks into a door.   
Ten minutes later Dr Kalonia’s hand is on Finn’s arm.   
‘I think you’d better take him home, dear,’ she smiles.   
Finn isn’t quite sure why the burden has fallen on him.   
‘Home’ is Poe’s quarters, about a kilometre down base, so Finn does lead him there, only so he can stop Poe from falling down in the dark. When the lights of the mess hall have faded behind them, and they’re left alone with the stars, Poe leans in and puts his hand in Finn’s.   
Finn feels his pulse race.   
‘This is nice,’ Poe sighs, his words slurring like the last customer at a cantina. ‘I wanted to do this.’   
They walk like that the rest of the way. Just them and the stars, hand in hand. But after he puts him to bed without shoes and walks back to the party alone, Finn tells himself Poe was drunk. He won’t remember doing that.   
The next day, Poe approaches Finn, shamefaced.   
‘Sorry about all that last night,’ he mumbles. ‘I’ve never been a good drinker.’   
Finn’s heart sinks a little. He isn’t sure why. 

The second thing that Poe Dameron is not good at is gambling.   
Finn is a good card player. It’s something he enjoys, a bit of strategy, mixed in with logic, often some luck. Regularly, it all seems to fall into place for him. On Saturday nights, there are always a couple of card games going round the base, and Finn seems to end up on the same table as Poe very often. 

Poe is notoriously terrible. He forgets the rules, has to be reminded every hand. He makes stupid, outlandish bets, flogs valuable cards, folds early, cannot bluff to save himself. The third loss in a row one night, Brance laughs.   
‘I don’t know why you’re showing up, Dameron. Finn keeps wiping the table with you.’   
‘When you come at the king, you best not miss,’ Finn chuckles, collecting his winnings, and when he looks up, Poe is beaming at him. That smile, Finn thinks, seems to warm him from the inside out, just like a good whiskey should.   
‘I’m trying to learn,’ Poe defends himself, suddenly turning to Brance. ‘My mama banned gambling in our house. Not my fault I’m a paragon of virtue.’   
The fourth idiotic collapse from Poe, the other players have had enough. There’s enough competent subs on the sidelines, waiting for their turn.   
‘You’re being removed,’ Brance declares. ‘Come back when you’ve learned, my friend.’   
Poe chuckles. ‘All right, all right! I won’t inflict myself on you all any more.’   
He lays his cards down, winks at Finn as he leaves.   
After Poe goes, however, Finn can’t help but feel like he’s having less fun. 

The third thing that Poe Dameron isn’t good at is a little less clear.   
It's a few nights after the card game. Finn takes a walk in the twilight, watching a couple of the moons rise up. He’s wandering down near the landing strip when Poe falls into step beside him.   
‘Hey,’ he murmurs.   
‘How’s it going?’   
Poe makes no reply for a while. Usually, chatter from him flows with ease. But they walk almost another kilometre in near silence before Finn breaks it.   
‘What’s wrong?’  
‘Nothing.’ There is something wrong. Poe’s voice hitches with nerves. ‘I just wanted to… No.’   
He stops, dead, and Finn can see the flash of his eyes in the dark.   
‘Finn. I’m no good at cards.’   
Finn looks at him in puzzlement, waiting for more. When there isn’t, and Poe continues to fidget, Finn makes it easy.   
‘I know.’ He replies. ‘It’s okay. No need for a mental crisis.’   
‘No. That’s not what I mean. I mean… I… like to still go. Though. I don’t even like cards.’   
Poe Dameron is usually so even-tempered, and to see him so borderline anxious is downright odd.   
‘Poe,’ Finn is growing more confused. ‘What are you talking about?’  
‘I only play cards cos you’re there.’ The other man blurts.   
There’s a silence.   
And something shifts into gear.   
The hand in his. The smiles. The attention. Finn hadn’t imagined Poe had a crush too. Why hadn’t he realised?  
‘I haven’t done this in ages..’ Poe is still flailing, and the colour is rising in his cheeks like a teenager, ‘and I’m really not.. ‘  
And because he’d rather not hear Poe stammer his way to the end of that sentence and crucify himself more, Finn kisses him instead.  
It's what he’s wanted, too, for ages. But whether he was ever going to do anything about it was another matter. Under his lips, Poe makes a soft noise, leans back. His hands find the jacket, pull him closer. The night air has cooled around them.   
‘At first I thought, you know, I really like him, but then I realised-‘  
Finn shuts him up again with his lips, for the love of god.  
‘My room is closer,’ he murmurs, quietly. ‘Do you wanna-‘  
‘Yeah,’ Poe’s eyes are shining. ‘Yeah.’   
They make short work of the distance, and once the door is locked, Finn kisses him again. Poe is soft, and the golden planes of his hips and waist are what Finn didn’t realise he was longing so badly for. Their lips meet again and again, and Poe is breathless, pliant, and with a fair few minutes more fumbling and murmuring and suggestions they’re against the wall, and Finn’s hands are steady on either side of Poe’s ribs, and through his fingertips he can feel each cry echo as they rut against each other. It’s hot, and fast, and breathless, and sweaty, and as it is they spend themselves, relatively quickly, and Poe sags back into Finn’s embrace, trembling. They stumble over to the bed, lie down.   
‘I’m not…’ Poe mumbles, after a while, ‘I’ve never been very good at… you know. Talking about this kind of stuff. Like when I really like someone… and… you know, all that.’   
Finn moves forward, feels the tickle of Poe’s eyelash on his cheekbone. He kisses him, softly.   
‘It’s okay.’ He murmurs. ‘I think you might just be brilliant at enough things.’   
That said, Finn thinks, when the other man has dozed off against his chest, and he is running a hand through those dark curls, it’s always good to have some sort of minor victory over Poe Dameron.


End file.
